


Saturday

by wolfy_writing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing





	Saturday

"John," Sherlock asked, "What do you know about this?"

"Hmm?" John looked down the alley. If he'd timed it right, they should be able to avoid the eleven o'clock kidnapping. That still left three more before John hit the limits of his knowledge for the day.

So far, he hadn't been able to get past four o’clock without them being captured. He had a mad hope that if he made it that far, he just might find the secret of getting both of them out of this day alive

He didn't think there was a way for both of them to survive once they were captured. And he was not going to try again.

When they kept running, it was usually John who died first. That had been quite nasty the first time, but it got easier once he learned he was going to wake up again.

Watching Sherlock die never got any easier.

"You've been anticipating Gruner's moves all day. Everything he plans, you're one step ahead. While I like to think you've learned something of my methods, I doubt you could surpass me this quickly. So you have a source of information you haven't told me about."

"I don't know what you're talking about. We should move." They had, by John's watch, eight minutes until they were spotted.

Sherlock stopped, right in front of the alley. "What are you hiding from me? I know you wouldn't conceal information unless you believed it was in my best interest, but it's dangerous for me to work with limited data. I need to know everything that you know.”

"I don't know anything! I just...work things out. Come on. We should get home." The flat would be safe for another two hours.

"As soon as you stop lying to me." Sherlock folded his arms.

John looked at his watch. Six and a half minutes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Sherlock just looked at John.

Six minutes. "Okay, I'll tell you. When we get home. But not here. Too dangerous."

"Very well. I expect a full explanation the moment we step in the door." Sherlock unfolded his arms and stuck one out. "Taxi!"

\---

"So you've been re-experiencing the day." Sherlock folded his hands.

"You don't believe me." John sat down heavily.

"I'm having trouble developing a working hypothesis. You're not lying about this; you obviously believe yourself. It could be an unusual monothematic delusion, but that leaves the question of where you're getting your information. It wouldn't be possible to accomplish what you've described by trickery, at least without involving me, and I know that I'm not involved. So I don't know what's happening."

"Did you think I might be right about what's happening?" John asked, irritated.

"It is a possibility I'm considering, yes."

"You're considering the possibility I might not be lying or delusional. I'm flattered."

"You should be." Sherlock steepled his fingers. "If it was anyone else, I would simply assume they were collaborating with Gruner. With anyone else, betrayal is a far more probable alternative than some previously-unknown temporal anomaly."

"Oh." John blinked.

"I think you should tell me everything you know. In detail. You do seem to have accurate information, and I can plan more effectively if I know the whole story."

"Well, to start with, it's been a very long day."

\---

"Have you tried leaving London?"

"Yes. Doesn't work. Gruner's men stab me at the train station and drag you off to him."

"What about capture?"

"We're not being captured."

"It isn't a survivable alternative?" Sherlock asked.

"Not for you.” John looked down. “Gruner leaves me tied up in the corner while he…you…” He drew a deep breath. “Lestrade's men raid the warehouse at about twenty minutes to midnight, and rescue me. But then I wake up and it's Saturday again. I've done that seven times already, and I'm not doing it again."

"Only seven? It doesn't seem like you’ve exhausted all of the possible permutations."

"Seven evenings locked in a room watching you bleed to death are enough."

"Hmm." Sherlock stood up. "What's our next move?"

"We need to be out of here in the next twenty minutes. Gruner is going to send a pack of thugs to kick the door in. After that, I haven't found anywhere safe. Just keep moving for as long as possible."

"A chase?" Sherlock smiled. "This will be fun."

\---

After two hundred and seventeen Saturdays, John had forgotten how brilliant Sherlock could be when he had new information. He didn’t just run and hide, but spotted the hidden GPS tracker John had completely failed to notice, and used it to lay a network of false trails that kept Gruner’s thugs in entirely the wrong part of the city for hours.

John started to hope they were really going to make it.

They didn't get cornered until nearly ten o’clock at night.

"We could surrender," Sherlock said.

"No."

"You'd be taken alive. You said Lestrade would rescue you before they got around to killing you."

"No."

"They have weapons and we don't. A fight is extremely likely to prove fatal."

"No."

"If this is a delusion, it could be your only chance at survival."

"No."

"I thought not. Still, had to ask." Sherlock turned and faced John. "If you do repeat the day, there are two important things you need to know. First, tell me everything the moment you get up. I won't believe you immediately, but I can be convinced."

"Right." John nodded. "And the other thing?"

Sherlock pressed John against the wall and kissed him.

The kiss broke a fraction of a second before John heard the gunshot.

As John lay bleeding in the ally, he thought, There are worse ways to die.

\---

"Sherlock,” John said over breakfast, “I have something completely impossible to tell you. You're going to think I'm insane at first. But hear me out, and hopefully you'll believe me by the end of the day."

\---

"You have to admit, it does sound like a delusion."

"Yes, I know." John sighed.

"Some interesting similarities to reduplicative paramnesia, although obviously different in specifics. Have you had any head injuries lately?"

"Not really." Forty Saturdays ago, John had his brains smashed out by Gruner's thugs, but he was fairly sure that wouldn't be on the list.

"Still, easy enough to disprove. We follow the routine you described, events don't transpire the way you anticipated, and you go to hospital to check for brain injuries." Sherlock's voice was even, but he was staring at John with a worried expression.

"Fine." John sipped his coffee. "If things don't turn out the way I described, I'll get my head checked out. It'll be nice. Relaxing. I'll be happy to."

"Well then, where to?"

\---

By ten o'clock, Sherlock was convinced.

By ten-fifteen, he had a plan.

John had thought Sherlock was impressive last time, but it didn't compare to what Sherlock with a full day of planning could do. The GPS was used as bait, Sherlock tricked five of Gruner's men into being arrested, and they made it until nearly eleven-thirty before being cornered.  
\---

“We’re surrendering.”

“No!” John snapped. “I’m not doing that again!”

"We are surrendering, John. Lestrade's men will be here in ten minutes. I doubt they'll kill me that quickly. Gruner is entirely too much of a gloater for that."

“No!” John repeated, but Sherlock was already stepping forward with his hands up.

\---

And then Sherlock lay on the floor, blood bubbling up from his wound.

"Hold on," John said. "Hold on, please! It's only five minutes. Four." He cast his eyes around the room, looking for a sheet of plastic, or anything airtight he could improvise into a bandage. But there was nothing.

"I would...hate to lose...this late in...the game." Sherlock was breathing hard.

"Well don't. Hold on, and you'll survive, and you'll win. Just stay with me for three-and-a-half minutes, and that's a win. Come on, you're Sherlock Holmes. You can hold out three minutes when victory is on the line."

"Next time..."

"Don't talk about next time," John said. "There isn't going to be a next time. You're going to make it out of this time alive, and we won't need another go."

"But if..." Sherlock's hand tugged at John's arm. "You need to know..."

"If this is about me telling you sooner, I promise to shake you awake at six in the morning. And if it’s about you wanting to kiss me, we've done that already. You can kiss me again, as much as you like, when you make it out of hospital." John dug through his pockets, wishing desperately that he’d managed to pack first-aid supplies. But he’d never been in a position where they’d do any good, and now he had nothing. Why did he only carry useless tat?

"Can't...wait that long. Sneak into the...hospital room and...kiss me."

"Fine, yes, anything. Just hold on."

"Police!" shouted a voice in the distance. "Drop your weapons and surrender."

It was Lestrade. John had never been so glad to hear him in his life.

"We're in here!" John shouted. "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson! We're in here! And we need an ambulance immediately!"

\---

John hovered as Sherlock was loaded into the ambulance. "Is he...will he...make it?"

"We need to get him to the hospital immediately," was all the EMT would say. The ambulance doors closed and it sped off.

A hand rested on John's shoulder. "Don't worry. Sherlock will have the finest care possible."

John turned around to see Mycroft. "How did you get here so fast?"

"I make it a point to keep an eye on my brother. Come along, the car is waiting."

John got in Mycroft's car.

"You've had a very long day, Dr. Watson."

"You have no idea."

"Two hundred and nineteen days long. My apologies, but I'm sure you can understand the necessity."

John looked at Mycroft. "You...you mean you..."

"Technically, a misuse of government resources. But he is my brother. And I knew that if anyone could save him, it would be you."

"You can alter time?"

"You'd be surprised at some of the research projects we've developed over the years."

\---

Sherlock opened his eyes.

"Hi," said John. "It's Sunday. Your brother is the most terrifying man I’ve ever met, and it’s Sunday."

"I was aware of that information. I believe you promised me a kiss." Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and pulled him closer.

"Right.” John leaned in. “Well, I always keep my promises."


End file.
